Precognition
by EmbersOfAmber
Summary: Marian knew she and Anders were fated for each other, until the worst happened. She couldn't give up on him; she wouldn't. AU FemMageHawke/AwakeningAnders
1. Chapter 1

_~o~_

* * *

_Couldn't save you from the start_  
_Loved you so it hurts my soul_  
_Can you forgive me for trying again?_  
_Your silence makes me hold my breath_  
_Time has passed you by_

_For so long I've tried to shield you from the world_  
_You couldn't face the freedom on your own_  
_Here I am left in silence_

_You gave up the fight_  
_You left me behind_  
_All that's done is forgiven_  
_You'll always be mine_  
_I know deep inside_  
_All that's done is forgiven_

_I watched the clouds drifting away_  
_Still the sun can't warm my face_  
_I know it was destined to go wrong_  
_You were looking for the great escape_  
_To chase your demons away_

_I've been so lost since you've gone_  
_Why not me before you?_  
_Why has fate deceived me?_  
_Everything turned out so wrong_  
_Why do you leave me in silence?_

_**~Forgiven by Within Temptation~**_

* * *

**Prologue**

It began as a small seed.

Who can say exactly how many pangs of regret or impotent feelings of frustration led to it? What precise map of events brought the first solid form of thought. The first time she wished she could change the past.

It wasn't the years of running, that was how she had grown up. An ever present shadow over their family from before the time she was born. Being an apostate wasn't something Marian _chose_ to be- she simply was. Like having blue eyes or dark hair. There were things you chose in life, and others things in which you had no say.

The death of her father might have marked the beginning of true disaster for the family. He was the rock, the anchor that tethered them all together. Without his steadying influence they were just pieces of drifting wood trying to keep afloat. Then the darkspawn came and tried to drown them.

Bethany's loss was the first soul-numbing tragedy that she felt personally responsible for. That must have been it. The first time she really thought to herself: _If only I…_

Pathetic words. Weak words. Words that cut into your soul like jagged glass, and left you choking on the rancid taste of your own inadequacies.

Yet Hawke still had a well of pragmatism to draw from back then. She had a mother and brother in her care. She would do better. Take precautions. It would never happen again. They made it to Kirkwall against the odds. She thought that somehow they would survive- as long as they had each other.

Carver's death was even more difficult. Though she and her brother had never shown their love openly, it had always been there. Merely hidden under sarcasm and competition. In his final moments, deep in the bowels of the earth, she had seen it in his eyes. Marian would have preferred if he hated her, as she deserved.

It was her fault. Entirely her fault, and nowhere to place the blame but on her already scarred and bleeding shoulders. Yet she had to go on. Her mother needed her to stay strong. The trip that had caused her brother's death had also brought prosperity and security. They had a home again. She had gained friends and influence, and also found a purpose.

Marian fell in love. After all the pain, loss and failure, she tasted joy at last. It was a heady brew, intoxicating beyond anything she had ever known- loving a man and all he stood for. Someone just like her who wasn't content to submit to oppression just because it was the status quo. Anders healed her heart and made her complete and whole again. Maybe even for the first time. Even the disapproving and interfering spirit that inhabited Anders could not spoil their love for each other.

Finally, when she thought it was safe to breathe…her mother was taken. The last piece of the familial chain snapped. It seemed a senseless death. A madman so obsessed with his dead sweetheart that he would do the most sick and twisted things to have her back. Break any law and commit atrocities for a second chance.

How utterly ironic that she could finally understand. Sitting on the cold ground, awash in the blood of her dead lover, it all became crystal clear. This was the only thing she could not bear. Perhaps she was mad too, but it made perfect sense. She looked at his blood on her fingers, and raised a trembling hand to smear it across her face, marking herself with all that was left of him in macabre tribute.

Mages could do so much more than many of them ever realized. Magic was an ocean of possibilities that most only ever dipped their toes in. Amazing things could be wrought, if you only had a learned teacher to instruct you…or a powerful tome of ancient secrets, long buried. The discoveries of others who were brave enough or foolish enough to do anything in pursuit of greater knowledge.

It might have been some sixth sense that had made her hide that last fell book of magic in that evil cave, long ago. A latent prescience perhaps, whispered in her subconscious. She stuffed it into her pack before any of her companions had taken note. Secretly, she had studied it. Not even Anders knew. At first, it was only morbid curiosity, but as she had progressed, one spell in particular had caught her attention.

It seemed ridiculous. Impossible to return to one's past, surely, but intriguing nonetheless. It required human sacrifices to begin with, which would have automatically made her turn away from it- but that was before she had come to this night. Her final and ultimate failure- _his_ death. Unacceptable as long as she drew breath.

She had not saved him at all that day at the Gallows, it seemed, not really. All she did was postpone the inevitable. Trying to cling just a little longer to the sinking ship, when what she needed to do was never board that doomed vessel.

_The answer is simple_, something whispered in her mind. Prevent the catalyst, prevent the change. She would find a way to save him from the mistakes that had led them here. It would not be an easy thing to accomplish, but there had to be a better path, and she would find it, somehow. They could be together again, and maybe even live in some semblance of peace. That thought was all she had left to cling to.

Marian slit the throat of the final, unconscious templar she was using to power her spell, the hot, life-sustaining fluid bursting forth in an eager gush. Just one more of the seemingly endless stream of hunters sent to kill them. They had made a grave mistake killing him first. The hunters had became the hunted, and their blood served her purpose.

The disbelief and horror a small part of her still felt at her actions was ruthlessly crushed. There was no place for a kindness that made her weak. Only the goal was important. Sad irony twisted her lips into a semblance of a smile as the thought skittered across her mind that the spirit would have approved of her single-mindedness...and her vengeance.

Templar blood ran in a red river across the makeshift alter she had arranged. She added her own blood, then some of Anders, before sketching patterns in the air with the enchanted rune, whispering the spell in a brittle voice.

A red so deep it was nearly black surrounded her in a heavy cloud. She chanted for what felt like hours, but might have even been days, the spell more complex than anything she had ever attempted. The power grew into undulating waves, while an invisible pressure tried to push her into the ground and grind her to dust. Marian grit her teeth and forced more strength into her voice. She would not fail!

"_We accept your offering,"_ purred the most sinister voice she had ever heard. Cold fear gripped her as she beheld a score of shadowy outlines that teased the edges of her vision, but it was too late to turn back.

The dark cloud wavered and coalesced before her, opening and forming a dim passage. She stepped across the small mountain of bodies and walked into it. Behind her lay blood, slaughter and failures uncounted. She had already kissed his cold lips a final time. The only path lay before her. Marian did not look back.

* * *

**Chapter One**

"Here are the last of the sleeping potions, as well as a few healing potions," Hawke said, hefting the full basket of glass bottles onto the table.

"Oh! Great, Hawke. That means we'll be able to buy food tonight, which I'm sure our stomachs will appreciate." Ella smirked and grabbed the basket, aiming to take them straight to the dwarf that sold them on their behalf.

Hawke crossed her arms, leaning against the table in their dingy little shack.

"Do you mean to say you don't like the wild mushroom and herb soup I make?"

Ella rolled her eyes. "Well, I appreciate _something_ to fill the hungry ache inside me, but your soup really doesn't do a whole lot for that. Sorry Hawke." She shifted the basket to her other hand. "Before I forget, I got a note earlier. There will likely be another runner here tonight."

Hawke sobered instantly. "Do we know where this one is from?" She tried to keep her tone casual, but Ella's eyes narrowed. Her friend was far too perceptive, after living as housemates for nearly a year.

"She's from the Kirkwall Circle," she said quietly.

"Do you know her?" Hawke relaxed infinitesimally at hearing it was another woman.

"I don't think so, but I won't know for sure until I see her." She shrugged and turned for the door. "I'm going to run these over to Jarris while the day is still young. See you later!"

Hawke sat heavily in a chair, rubbing her brows tiredly. She had no idea her spell would take her so far back in time, before Anders even arrived in Amaranthine. It sometimes seemed that her former life had been no more than an elaborate dream, and this time and place, the true reality.

It had been fortunate finding Ella, when she had awoken outside the city, disoriented, grieving and still covered in blood. Or, it would be more accurate to say Ella found her. The older woman had taken Hawke in hand, kindly and firmly. She had cleaned her up and brought her home with her, all while asking few questions and respecting her need for space.

Ella was an apostate and had been living free for the past eight years, three of which had been spent in Amaranthine. She was also part of an underground network helping others like herself, and they had become good friends over the months.

Hawke did all she could to assist her fellow mages, and also out of appreciation for Ella having offered her a place to stay. It gave her something to focus on besides her extended wait for Anders, which Ella was entirely unaware of. If she noticed how Hawke tensed every time they received word of a runaway mage headed their way, she never commented on it, for which Hawke was grateful.

There were occasions when Hawke suffered from worry, wondering if she had altered things by coming back to this time. What if it made some infinitesimal change, and Anders never arrived? It wasn't as if she could just show up at the Ferelden Circle, bang on the door, and inquire whether Anders was still captive within.

She snorted at the thought, rubbing the pendant she wore around her neck that contained his blood. Her very own version of a phylactery, and it was the warmth it continued to emit which assured her he was still living and breathing…somewhere.

Laying her head on the gnarled tabletop, she closed her eyes, letting her mind drift. She didn't realize she had dozed off until the sound of the door woke her. She sat up quickly to see Ella coming through the door, her arms laden with the efforts of her food shopping.

Hawke walked across and took some of the packages from her arms before she dropped them, raising a brow when she saw Ella also carried two bottles of wine. Ella shrugged and smiled.

"Your potions sell well, Hawke."

"Do we really need two bottles of wine though, Ella? I still have that whisky stash if you're interested in drink."

"Yes, well, you know I prefer wine, plus, it looks like we're going to have a full house soon."

Hawke walked to the small table and begin rummaging through the edibles her friend had purchased.

"A full house?" she questioned absently, happy to see Ella had bought her favorite crusty bread. She ripped the end off the still warm loaf and closed her eyes in pleasure as she chewed.

"Another note in the box. I just got word of my old friend Anders, and it seems he's escaped again. Maker only knows how he has managed it so many times."

Hawke coughed and choked, the bread turning into sawdust in her mouth. Ella pounded on her back helpfully, and she held up a hand as she managed to swallow and finally recover her breath.

"I think he's made half a dozen attempts, but they always drag him back. Damn phylacteries and damn the templars," she said angrily.

"You've helped this mage before then?" Hawke hoped her tone was as casually interested as she intended it to be.

"Mhhh, but that was before I came here," she rolled her eyes and smiled. "He's the most outrageous flirt I've ever met. Wait until you meet him. He usually only elicits two reactions- you either want to hit him or bed him."

Hawke tried to stifle the emotional roiling in her gut, and her cheeks reddened with the effort.

"Which did you want to do?" She busied her hands again, unwrapping the food and grabbing a paring knife to start slicing the carrots. Ella grabbed a few slices and crunched them loudly.

"I never bedded him, if that's what you're asking! Maker's bitch, I'm not as young as I used to be, and I don't think he was ever that desperate." She smiled mischievously and leaned closer to Hawke. "You might like him though. You're young and pretty and he's handsome. There's nothing wrong with having a bit of fun."

Ella ran her fingers through Hawke's shoulder length hair fondly. "I know you've suffered greatly in the past, even if you try to keep it bottled up inside."

Hawke tried to protest, but Ella put a finger over her mouth and smiled knowingly. "All I'm saying is to be open to life's little pleasures." She smiled sadly, "they can be fleeting."

Hawke nodded, only too aware of the fact, and continued cutting up vegetables. "I'll remember that," she said quietly.

Ella smiled. "Good, because we have to split up tonight. I'll go meet the girl from Kirkwall and you can meet Anders. Wait around the tavern as usual, and he'll eventually show, provided he wasn't held up." She pinched the bridge of her nose. "Or recaptured."

She went on to describe him so Hawke would know him when she saw him, mentioning he would undoubtedly be in robes as that was all she had ever seen him wear. Hawke stared at her in shock and dropped the knife.

"Do you mean to say that this Anders doesn't have enough sense to disguise that he's a mage? He doesn't even change his clothes?" Hawke had never stopped to think that Anders might have been recaptured all those times through his own foolishness.

Ella sat on a chair and drummed her fingers on the table and nodded. "That about sums it up. Maybe you could give him some pointers. I've never seen another apostate blend in as effortlessly as you do."

"I've had my whole life to perfect the technique," she muttered, her mind already on buying him a change of clothes before the market closed.

"Necessity is often the best teacher." Ella stood and took the knife and began chopping the rest of the vegetables, while Hawke went to her room to retrieve her meager coin purse.

"I'm going to buy a change of clothes for this ignorant man before the stalls close."

Ella waved the knife in acknowledgement, and Hawke slipped out the door. The sun was sinking fast, but there was still time to get what she would need. She headed out of the slums where they lived and down the main thoroughfare of the city, dodging a cart of grain pulled by a team of oxen, and smiling at the crowd of laughing children playing with the neighborhood mutt.

Hawke considered Amaranthine the perfect size- small enough to get around in, but large enough for her not to be noticed. She found the stall of men's clothing easily, and began examining piles of tunics and trousers, looking for something to fit Anders. The back of her neck prickled with awareness, and she looked to the side casually, catching a flash of silver armor and red from the corner of her eye. The templar was scanning the area, but didn't seem to be watching her particularly.

She focused on finishing her task and paid the merchant, even while maintaining her covert observation. Two more templars joined the first as she turned to head back toward home, but she changed her mind at the last second and headed toward the chantry. Better to be on the safe side and take the long way back. She kept her stride purposeful but unhurried, not breathing easily until she was well away.

Hawke ducked behind a building, peeking out to watch as the templar trio headed back toward the city gates. She gnawed her lip worriedly, suddenly anxious for nightfall.

_Where are you, Anders?_

* * *

~o~


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

* * *

Hawke crouched in the shadow of the Crown and Lion Inn, heart drumming erratically. For a year she had hidden on the outskirts of Amaranthine, taking any menial jobs she could find in order to survive and fit in, all while helping Ella. Biding her time until the day he would draw near.

She had assisted a number of mages on their journey to freedom. Hawke wasn't a crusader or a revolutionary, not anymore, but she did what she could to lend aid to fellow apostates. Most were headed to the Free Marches, and the hope of a better life than they had found in Ferelden. She had silently wished each of them better luck than she had found in her attempt. Although that reality no longer existed, she still carried all her memories of it.

The glass vial of blood between her breasts began to grow warmer, signaling his approach. The time had arrived, and she was as ready as she could be to meet this stranger from the past.

* * *

~o~

Anders walked along the darkened path, a sense of urgency speeding his steps. He had sent word of his arrival to Ella through the mage underground. She was a friend he had made on a previous escape attempt, and he hoped there would be someone to meet him soon, as he had been wandering the streets for sometime.

He kept his eyes open for any fellow apostates, but tried not to look too obvious, just in case there were any templars waiting to spring upon him. As much as his freedom meant to him, he didn't want to endanger anyone else.

He glanced back over his shoulder, catching a silvery glint of light shining off a figure in plate armor. City guard…or worse? He broke into a run, hurrying down the steps. A hand reached out of the shadows and grabbed him by the robes, jerking him aside and causing him to stumble.

His first instinct was to fight, but when he was spun and slammed into the side of the building, a feminine hand pressed to his mouth, he decided to take a moment to evaluate the situation. Soft, womanly curves pressed against him as the figure in shadow leaned into breath flowed across his ear.

_Hmmm, maybe I'll have good luck tonight, after all._

"Shhh, don't struggle," the woman whispered. "I'm a friend of Ella's. I'm here to help you."

She moved off him, then grasped his hand to lead him further back into the thick darkness. The clunky sounds of someone in armor drew closer, and she yanked urgently on his arm. He broke into a trot to keep up with her. She weaved gracefully in and out of alleyways and across dark roads until they came to a building shrouded in shadow in the less nice part of town, from the looks of it.

They walked to the back, and she slipped a door open and pulled him inside, closing it behind them. Fire hovered from her palm, and she lit two small tapers and turned to face him.

Anders relaxed, now certain he was indeed in the company of another mage. A pretty one at that, and somehow oddly familiar. He wondered fleetingly if he had run into her on one of his previous escapes. He bowed dramatically.

"Thank you for your assistance, dear lady. I am Anders. And you are?"

She stood staring at him silently, her eyes wandering up and down, taking in his elaborate teal and gold robes, complete with black feathers at the shoulders. The gold armbands around his muscled biceps had her raising a surprised brow. _Her_ Anders had never worn anything to draw attention to his body. How different had he been before Justice had taken over?

Anders frowned at the extended silence and the strangely dull look in her eye, and he had a second to wonder if Ella had sent someone addled to help him.

"Hello, anybody there?" He waved a hand in front of her face.

She startled and blushed, crossing her arms as though she were cold.

"Uh, sorry, you just look like someone I used to know. You can call me Hawke. It's nice to meet you….Anders."

He smiled, intrigued. "Let me guess. Is it an old boyfriend? Please don't tell me I remind you of a templar." He shuddered.

Hawke smiled and shook her head. "Sorry, I don't know any templars." A flash of something went through her eyes and her smile changed to something darker. "Well, I don't know any _living_ templars, I guess I should say. Not anymore."

His brows rose in surprise. Was she implying she was a templar killer? He wasn't sure what to say to that, but it made him look at her a bit more closely. She really was very lovely, with her pale skin, blue eyes and dark hair, but there was something more. He couldn't quite put his finger on it, but whatever it was seemed…dangerous. Possibly that was what he lacked on his previous escape attempts- someone dangerous on his side.

"I hear a story there. Care to share? Tales of roasted templars just happen to be my favorite bedtime stories, just so you know." He smiled appealingly, but she shook her head.

"Maybe another time. Would you like some tea? I also have bread and stew if you're hungry."

"Tea sounds great. I managed to grab a bite earlier at the pub."

Hawke moved to the stove, placing wood inside and starting a flame, while Anders looked around. The space was neat and sparsely furnished, holding a table and chairs in the kitchen nook and what looked to be two small sleeping chambers on either side of the main living space. There were few personal affects, and nothing magical that would give away any secrets. _Smart._

"Do you live in Amaranthine, or are you just passing through, like me?"

Her back was to him while she was putting the kettle on the small stove, and he took the opportunity to appreciate her curvaceous hips and the way her trousers clung to her generous backside. She turned and caught him staring, then smiled and turned to grab two cups from the wash stand.

"I've been here nearly a year living with Ella, but I think it may be time for me to move on. I'm careful, but I _have_ seen more templars in the area of late."

"Ah," he said apologetically, "they're probably looking for me."

She walked toward him and stopped close enough for him to smell her.

_Lavender? Nice._

Hawke stared into his eyes as though she were trying to see into his soul, her gaze assessing. He stared back, crossing his arms, his muscles bulging with the movement. He lifted a brow. He wasn't going to be intimidated by this woman….much.

The kettle boiled, and she tore her gaze away and went to pour the water, then puttered around in another cupboard. After a moment, she handed him a cup, and gestured for him to sit. She sat on a chair opposite him, and set her tea on the table.

"So," she began, finally breaking the silence, "how would you like to be rid of templars hunting you? Permanently."

He laughed as though she had asked if he would like to become the richest man in Ferelden.

"I would, of course." He scratched his chin thoughtfully. "I'm actually in the process of making inquiries regarding the location of my phylactery. I've learned they moved them away from Denerim during the Blight." She was shaking her head while he was speaking. "What, you don't think I should try to find it?"

"I have a way around it, when the opportunity presents itself, but I will need something from you closer to the time."

"I have a little money, but very little else beyond my personal affects here." He patted the small satchel across his back.

Her eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "I don't need money. Do you have a staff, or did you have to leave it behind?"

He pointed a thumb over his shoulder. "I hid it in the woods outside of town. It should be fine there." He was quiet for a beat while he sipped his tea, then he grinned. "Hey, you make your tea exactly the way I like it- milk with just a bit of sweetener."

She smiled down at her boots. "Imagine that," she murmured.

"So what's your story, then?" He stretched his long legs in front of him and slouched down more comfortably in the chair. "Did you run away from one of the Circles too?"

She ran her fingers through her messy fringe to get it out of her eyes, not missing the way his eyes followed the movement.

"No, I'm a lifelong apostate. My father was in the Circle in Kirkwall before he escaped and ran off to marry my mother. I lost my family to the Blight." Her gaze clouded over for a moment. "I've spent my entire life hiding, and I'm quite good at it."

He winked. "I'm really good at escaping, so maybe we could trade our skills."

She swirled the tea in her cup and looked up, her expression pensive. "Where are you headed?"

"I thought I might make for the Free Marches. I have heard there are a good many Ferelden refugees in Kirkwall. It might be an idea to go there and blend in."

"No!"

Hawke blushed at her outburst. "What I mean is, my mother's family is from there, and I've heard that city is unusually difficult for mages. Tranquility is sometimes forced on a mage the templars decide is trouble. I urge you _never_ to go there. There are rumors. You can ask Ella about it when she gets back. She is meeting another runaway from Kirkwall tonight."

Anders looked stunned, then angry. "Truly? They make tranquils just because they can? That's barbaric, not to mention illegal! Mages who have passed their harrowing aren't supposed to be made tranquil."

She nodded, agreeing with his anger and his words. "I'm looking for someplace to go too, but I won't consider Kirkwall. For any reason."

Setting his empty mug down, Anders leaned forward and rested his arms on the table. "I suppose if we're both confused, we might consider traveling together. Nothing more effective than the blind leading the blind, right?"

Hawke smiled mysteriously. "You don't even know me. What makes you think traveling with me would be wise?"

"I'm an excellent judge of character." He began ticking things off on his fingers. "You're beautiful, you're smart, you're an apostate who's really good at hiding, you smell like lavender, you're also beautiful. Did I happen to mention you were gorgeous?"

She shook her head, laughing softly. "Maker's breath, you really are quite a flirt. More than I would have ever expected."

"Why were you…" He rolled his eyes, the answer obvious. "Right. Ella. I forgot how girls like to gossip." He raised his eyebrows and smirked. "I suppose she told you I was frightfully handsome too, so you knew to grab me when you saw me."

She laughed again and bit her lip. "Um, no. I was focused on your energy, not your looks." _As distracting as they may be, _she thought.

When he looked at her like she was crazy, she set her own mug aside and leaned forward. "Shall I demonstrate in reverse so you can feel me?"

"I don't think I would have any problem _feeling_ you, dear Hawke, if you come sit on my lap," he purred suggestively. He smiled invitingly and patted his knee. She looked dumbfounded.

"Andraste's flaming sword! Are you really so free with your affections, or do you just like to flirt?"

"Affections should always be free…unless you're a whore, in which case there's nothing wrong with charging, I suppose." He shrugged his big shoulders.

She ignored his words and put a hand to her chest just where the blood pendant rested, and amplified her energy onto Anders. His eyes narrowed, then he placed a hand on his suddenly pressure filled chest hesitantly, mirroring her.

"That's you?" he asked curiously. She nodded and drew herself back in.

"I'm wearing a pendant that dampens me, or you likely would have sensed my aura more strongly before now."

He scooted to the edge of his seat, leaning further toward her.

"Can I see?"

She bit her lip and pulled it out from beneath her tunic. He stared at it, his eyes flicking back and forth between the necklace and her face, his expression suddenly guarded.

"You're a blood mage," he said in a neutral voice.

She made an irritated gesture with her hand. "No. I'm a mage, period. I know one or two blood magic spells, but it's not my focus." She smiled reassuringly. "I can cast a fairly effective healing spell, and I have, many times, but I'm no spirit healer."

Anders looked confused. "Then where do your primary talents lie? For instance, what's your strongest spell?"

Hawke tapped her lip thoughtfully for a moment. "From destruction magic, I have more than one, but probably firestorm or tempest, or something from force magic. What about you? Do you know any offensive spells?"

"I can cast a pretty mean fireball or ice spell. How can you be proficient with several schools of magic if you weren't Circle trained? Did your father teach you?"

She nodded. "Some. I learned all my elemental spells from him. The rest, I taught myself from various tomes I have happened across over the years. I might teach you what I know if you're interested in learning."

She smiled seductively, and Anders decided now might be a good time to push his luck. He leaned far enough forward to grab her hand and bring it against his lips. He brushed his mouth slowly against her knuckles, watching as she watched him like a…well, like a hawk.

"Hawke," he breathed against her hand.

"Yes?" She cleared her throat quietly, annoyed by her breathy tone. This Anders was different than what she expected, and it made her feel off balance. Justice had apparently changed him more than she had ever realized. Perhaps she never really knew him, she thought with a pang.

"Is that really what you're called? No other name?" He bit down gently on one of her knuckles and she closed her eyes and shuddered. He smiled against her hand.

_Sensitive, this one. My favorite._

"My given name is Marian. Hawke is my family name. My mother was an Amell."

He tilted his head curiously. "Amell? Like the Hero of Ferelden?"

"Yes. He's my cousin, I believe."

"Interesting."

He turned her hand over and pressed a kiss to her palm, flicking his tongue against the sensitive center.

"Anders?"

"Mhhh?"

She sighed again and forced her eyes open.

"Are you trying to seduce me, or is this just _your_ version of a casual conversation?"

He looked up with a smile and sucked on the tip of her index finger.

"What would you like it to be, Marian?"

"I would like an honest answer to my question."

His eyes warmed further and his voice dipped lower. "I'm trying very hard to seduce you. Is it working?"

She pursed her lips, considering. "Possibly. I should probably tell you something first."

He chuckled nervously. "Please don't tell me you already have a lover, or I'm liable to spend the entire night whimpering in the corner."

She stood and walked around the table, distantly wondering what the blazes she was doing. She stood between his open legs, looking down on him. He wrapped his arms around her waist and drew her closer. She rested one hand lightly on his shoulder, and caressed the gold ring in his ear with her other hand, unable to keep herself from touching him. It had been so long… _One small touch can't hurt_.

"I like the earring," she said quietly.

Anders relaxed and smiled. "That's all you wanted to tell me? You had me worried."

"That isn't what I was going to tell you."

He pulled her down to sit on his leg, and moved closer to kiss her.

"I wanted to tell you that I already know what you're like in bed." Just before their lips met he stopped, smiling in amusement.

"What? How? You can't possibly know that. I've never slept with Ella."

The door handle turned and Hawke stood, moving away slightly.

"Later," she mouthed, as Ella came through the door with a mousy looking girl that Hawke took to be the mage from Kirkwall.

"Oh, you found Anders, Hawke, thank the Maker! There are so many templars about, I had to take Nora the long way round."

Anders stood and gave Ella an enthusiastic hug. "You haven't changed a bit, young lady. Still dragging in lots of strays, I see." He winked at the younger, mousy mage, then turned his attention back to Ella who was shaking her head and laughing.

"You haven't changed either, Anders. Still leaving a stream of templars in your wake."

Hawke had come to speak quietly to Nora and offered her tea and stew, just as she had with Anders. Nora accepted with a grateful nod, and Hawke led her to the table. Anders couldn't stop his eyes from following Hawke as she walked, and Ella gave him a knowing smile.

He grinned at being caught. "What can I say? They're like possessive lovers, they just don't know when to let go."

Hawke set food in front of Ella then came to stare at him with her arms crossed.

"More like you don't know how to change," she said, her eyes running over his fancy robes again. "Speaking of which, come with me please."

Anders glanced inquisitively between Hawke and Ella, and the older woman waved him away. "Listen to her. She knows what she's doing, Anders."

Hawke beckoned him to follow her into one of the small rooms, and he walked close behind her. She pushed the door mostly closed and pulled garments off the hook on the back, and shoved them into his arms.

"What do you want me to do with these?" He asked in confusion.

She scoffed in exasperation. "Are you really this naïve? You can't go around in robes any longer and stay free, Anders. You stick out like a sore thumb."

He looked at the rough clothing and sighed. "I suppose you're right." His smile turned cheeky. "I think you giving me ugly clothes to wear could be because you want to hide how handsome I am and keep me all to yourself, eh?"

She nodded, deadpan. "Certainly. I intend to turn you into my trained sex slave, and can't be bothered scaring other women off. Get changed and I'll wait for you out here."

He grabbed her hand to stop her from leaving. "What if I need a bit of help? Robes can be tricky."

She lowered her gaze to focus on their joined hands, a silly little smile on her face. "Not as tricky as the mages they contain."

She withdrew her hand and slipped out the door, pulling it closed behind her. Anders couldn't stop his grin.

_Oh, this will be fun._

_~o~_


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

* * *

Anders emerged from the bedroom, dressed in the clothing Hawke had given him. Ella waved him over to the hearth where she was seated, cutting an apple into slices. He accepted a wedge, his gaze straying around the room to where Hawke was leaning close to Nora, obviously deep in conversation.

Folding his long legs underneath him, he scooted close to Ella, deciding it was a good time to catch up. She shook her head, but smiled at him fondly.

"How did you manage to get out this time, Anders? I believe the escape when we met involved a spare set of templar armor, didn't it?"

He chuckled in remembrance. "You're right, it did. I think that was one of my easier exits from the Tower, actually. Even though that armor was almost too heavy for me to walk normally." He popped the last bite of crisp apple into his mouth, enjoying the tangy sweetness. "You won't believe how I got out this time. It was _almost_ ridiculously easy."

Ella leaned back in her seat, her eyes narrowed thoughtfully as she smoothed her hands against her skirt. "You drugged the templar guarding the basement tunnels?" He shook his head and she tried again. "You hid in the supply boat?"

Anders laughed. "That one worked twice for me, but not this time. Do you give up?"

She sighed. "I'm sure it was something clever to have gotten you out the seventh time. I give up."

He rubbed a hand across his stubbled cheek and leaned closer, pitching his voice to a low murmur. "There was a new female templar who was quite taken by my _charms_. I chatted her up, exhausted her in the usual way, then stole her keys while she slept."

Ella's shoulders were shaking with laughter. "I would have guessed sex, but I thought everyone in the Tower knew about you by now."

He grinned and shrugged. "I'm just oddly grateful she was as homely as a mabari, and very eager for male attention. It made it easier for me, although it _was_ necessary for me to close my eyes and picture someone else to get the job done."

His eyes strayed back to Hawke, lingering on her mouth when she laughed at something the other mage said. He glanced back at Ella who was watching him with a knowing smirk.

"What can you tell me about Hawke?" he asked quietly. "She said she's been living with you for some time."

Ella sobered and nodded. "A year. I found her outside of town in an open field, confused and covered in blood. She never told me what happened to her, and I don't push." She sighed, her careworn face reflecting her age.

"I think she holds onto a lot of secrets, but she's dear to me, Anders." Ella looked at him severely. "Don't do anything to hurt her."

He held up a hand, palm facing out. "I'll be a perfect gentleman- mages honor." He hesitated, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Until she tells me otherwise, anyway."

Ella laughed and pushed his shoulder. "I've already warned her about you, so whatever happens, at least it won't be on my conscience." She stood and rubbed her lower back absently. "I'll fetch your bedding. You can sleep by the hearth tonight, and I'll share with Nora since I have the larger bed."

She shuffled off and left Anders contemplating the dancing flames before him and wondering what awaited him in the coming days and weeks.

* * *

The following days passed without any problems. Hawke was always on the alert, knowing it was the calm before the storm. Her hands itched to push a confrontation with the templars, but she forced herself into a restless patience.

She seldom strayed from Anders side, which he seemed to appreciate. They fell into a comfortable pattern of flirtation and blossoming friendship, though she still kept him at a distance physically.

Ella helped Nora to prepare for the next part of her journey, and the mage eagerly set off for Denerim before week's end. Running low on money again, Hawke decided to gather more potion ingredients, with Anders eager to help. They slipped from Amaranthine unnoticed.

Their journey would take them several hours from the city. Anders grumbled half-heartedly about the hood she had insisted he wear to cover his hair and help him blend with other men of the area.

"If your vanity is more important than your life, by all means, feel free to dress as you choose. Did I happen to mention that I have a bit of a fetish for men in hats?" She asked innocently.

"Hmmm, I'll have to remember that. Actually, Mari, I wanted to ask you something."

She smiled at his shortening of her name. Justice/Anders never called her anything but Marian, and further emphasized to her just how different he was without the spirit to change him. The old anger burned in her gut.

"What is it?" She headed them to the east of the city, in a wooded area that always yielded the plants she sought. She wore her enchanted sword, and Anders carried two daggers she had loaned him just for show.

"You mentioned you know what I'm like in bed, but you didn't tell me who gave you that information." His voice rose in a question.

She pulled a handful of leaves from the hanging branch of a tree, and let them fall from her fingertips onto the soft turf they were walking across. She chewed her lip thoughtfully, cursing herself for the flippant remark.

How could she tell him that she remembered with perfect clarity the feel of his tongue on her most sensitive areas, or the scrape of his calluses on her breasts? How he knew exactly how to touch her to bring her to her knees with want?

Just thinking of it brought a demanding burn to her blood and an aching emptiness in her core. She sighed inwardly and ignored her body's demands. This was not the same as before and never would be, and they were nothing but friends.

"Maybe I was just teasing you to get a reaction." She avoided his eyes to see if he would accept her explanation. He took her hand to stop her from walking away and turned her to face him. She kept her expression blank while he examined her face.

"I don't buy it. You were serious when you said it. I've learned to read you over the past week, you know. Why not just tell me? I'm far too curious to let it go, and I'll keep pestering you until I get an answer."

She focused on his gold earring while she decided just how much to tell him, then nodded and met his sharp, brown-eyed gaze again.

"Alright, but if what I tell you sounds unlikely- remember, you asked for it."

He pursed his lips. "Fine, now talk."

Hawke turned to continue walking, but he tugged on the hand he still held to prevent it, and shook his head.

"No, I want to watch your face so I can tell if you're lying." She laughed in surprise, but he smirked and raised a brow.

"Maker, you're demanding. Very well. Have you heard of the gift of precognition?"

He tilted his head in confusion, wondering what that had to do with anything. "That's the supposed ability to see future events. What of it?"

She blew the hair off her forehead and glanced down at his broad, tunic covered chest. Finding that even more distracting than his eyes, she returned her gaze to his face.

"I have a bit of precognition." When he continued to look confused, she blurted it out. "I've _seen_ us…together." An unexpected blush burned her cheeks while understanding crept into his gaze, followed by a smug male laugh of triumph. He pulled her flush against him, and her heart thrummed insistently against her ribs when he threaded his fingers in her hair possessively.

She closed her eyes against his dear face. Hawke ached with the love she had to keep hidden in her heart for him. She had no idea this would be so hard, especially when he pressed lips she knew as well as her own against her throat.

"If you can see the future and we become lovers, then why delay? Should we not seize the time we have," he whispered into her ear seductively.

_Oh, Maker, I'm not strong enough to resist this. Should I resist?_ she wondered desperately.

A loud scream rent the air, and they both stiffened, turning toward the sound of swearing and struggle beyond the thick row of trees where they stood. Hawke didn't know whether to be relieved or curse in frustration, but she pulled away from Anders, drawing her sword.

"It sounds like a woman," he said, pulling out one of the daggers.

"Stay behind me," she ordered, "and don't use magic unless you have to." She cleared the tree line and missed the way Anders' jaw tightened at her words.

It didn't take long to draw conclusions from what was happening. There was an unconscious man on his back, while four others gathered around a woman on the ground, clearly intending to force themselves on her. Cool rage flooded Hawke's veins, and she welcomed the opportunity for action. She had been idle far too long.

Clicking her tongue chidingly, she drew their attention and they looked toward her. "Now, now, boys, don't you think you should reconsider?"

She silently praised the woman when she ran for the trees behind Hawke and Anders, and Hawke kept talking to give her time to get away.

"I can tell just from looking at the four of you, that your dicks are too pathetically _small_ to offer even a modicum of satisfaction." Anders' choked laugh joined with the angry growls of the men before them.

"Are you boys sorry for what you've done, or are you prepared for a thrashing today?"

The biggest lout stepped forward and spat contemptuously at her feet. "I don't know who you think you are, girl, but I'll put that mouth of yours to better use before I slit your throat."

"I was hoping you would say that," she purred menacingly.

The men surged forward, intent on rushing the two mages, but she extended a hand forward and lifted it, then made a fist bringing it down sharply. All four of them flew high into the air then slammed down into the earth, knocked unconscious. She strode forward and did to them as they had threatened to do to her and slit their throats, bringing the brief confrontation to a swift close.

"Disappointing," she murmured, while wiping her sword free of blood on the clothing of her final victim. Anders scoffed, and she looked at him questioningly.

"I thought you said we shouldn't use magic," he said with a small frown, looking at the bodies.

"I said not unless we had to, which clearly, I had to. I'm fairly adequate with a sword with one opponent at a time, but not four."

The woman ran back through the trees and threw her arms around Hawke, who looked a little surprised at the show of affection.

"Thank you, ser, you saved our lives! Oh, I forgot Thomas!" She ran to the unconscious man and tried to revive him, but he groaned and lay still again. Anders stepped forward and placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, drawing her back.

"I'm a healer. Let me just have a quick look at him." The woman nodded gratefully. Anders hands glowed a pale green and moved just above the head of the injured man, knitting the gash and stopping the flow of blood. His eyes fluttered opened, and he looked around in confusion.

"Erin?"

The woman grinned and threw her arms around the man, laughing happily. Hawke smiled at Anders, always proud of how willing he was to offer his gifts for the benefit of others, and he winked at her. Erin and Thomas stood and turned to thank their rescuers, but Hawke waved it away.

"I'm just glad we were nearby to stop those men." She looked at the bodies dispassionately. "They won't be able to hurt anyone else."

Erin clasped Hawke's hand and spoke fervently. "I always said mages were good. Just look at how a mage saved us all from the blight. How can we ever repay you for what you done?"

Hawke smiled. "Just forget you ever saw any mages, and that will be thanks enough."

"You can count on me, ser, my lips are sealed." The woman nodded eagerly and pulled the man along, anxious to get back to their farm, and safety.

Hawke and Anders left the area, walking quickly, and he noticed a little worried frown between her brows.

"Are you alright, Mari?" he asked gently.

She looked at him and the frown faded. "Just wondering how long until the gossip comes back to bite us in the ass with the templars. I think we had better get serious about getting out of Amaranthine and…ah- _shit_."

More than half a dozen templars stepped out of cover, blocking their way forward. Marian glanced behind her, whispering a life detection spell under her breath, but there was no one behind them. She sighed in relief and turned in time to see Anders step in front of her protectively to speak to the leader, who wore no helm.

His eyes were as cold as his smile.

* * *

~o~


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

* * *

"Save your breath, mage. We have caught you, at last. They should have hung you or made you tranquil long ago, but the mistake will soon be rectified."

Anders stiffened at his words, but squared his shoulders. "Do what you will with me, just as your kind always has," he spat. "Only let this woman go free. I would not see her kindness punished when she had no idea I was a mage."

The mans eyes flickered coldly over Hawke and he sneered. "This one has the feel of apostate as well. She'll be coming along with us too."

"No!" Anders snarled, and blasted fire from his hands at the same time Hawke yelled, "Like hell!" and released Fist of the Maker, slamming their burning bodies into the ground. Several men who were out of range of the fire spell, staggered to their feet and drew their swords.

Before they could hit either mage with a holy smite or drain away their mana, Hawke pulled her dagger and sliced her arm, chanting as the red swirl encompassed all the templars. They were lifted from the ground and blood poured from their bodies until the final groans of death faded and she released the spell.

The bodies hit the ground with a heavy thud, and she pulled a cloth from her belt and pressed it against her still bleeding arm. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply, wondering what this Anders reaction would be to the hemorrhaging blood magic spell- her most powerful one, and the only spell that allowed her to kill so many at a time.

Anders took her arm gently and removed the cloth, attempting to heal her and frowning when the bleeding stopped but the wound didn't close. She shrugged.

"It won't heal fully until the last of the effects of the spell fade. That one required a lot of power," she said tiredly. He maneuvered her toward a large tree root, and she sat gratefully, already working on the next course of action in her mind.

"Anders, you remember that I said I needed something from you to get the templars off your back forever?" He nodded and she continued. "Well, now is the time, and what I need is your blood." She hurried to explain. "I only need just a small amount…"

He took her hand and pressed his lips to her palm, and she shifted nervously, wondering at his continued silence, when he pinned her with a look so intense it took her breath.

"Mari, you just risked your life for me. You helped save us both. If you're sure you know what you're doing, then, for now, I won't question your methods."

She swallowed the sudden lump in her throat at his trusting words and nodded, then pulled the blood pendant from her neck, feeling the warm glow of the other Anders' blood against her hand for a final time.

"I've carried this with me for so long in readiness for this day," she mused. "It will be strange to finally let it go."

He absorbed her words, letting the full weight of what she was implying sink in. "You planned for this? But why do that?"

Her eyes begged him not to press her on this. "Ask me another time when we are far from this place. Now we have much to do."

She shook off her strange mix of confusing emotions and walked to the bodies of the slain templars. Hawke selected the least marred of the corpses, and the one a similar size and build to Anders. She drug it to one side and motioned him over.

A fleeting regret flashed through her as she looked at the handsome young templar, but when she remembered who they all were and what they stood for, her long nurtured hatred washed away any guilt or sorrow.

Anders watched the play of emotions across her expressive face, and felt an even deeper kinship to her than he had before. They had much in common, it seemed, right down to their conflicted feelings over the chantry lackeys.

"Give me your arm," she said, pulling the dagger from her belt again. He lifted his sleeve, and extended a muscular forearm to her. She gave him an apologetic look, then slit a four inch cut into his pale skin. He flinched slightly, but allowed her to angle his arm to bleed across the corpse at their feet.

When she deemed it enough, she released his arm and nodded to him. With a green glow, he sealed the cut instantly and lowered his sleeve back into place, watching her to see what she would do next.

Hawke placed the pendant on the body, then began chanting, her eyes closed and her head thrown back. The glass vial shattered and a silvery mist covered the corpse, obscuring it from sight. She fell silent and opened her eyes, looking down as the mist cleared.

Anders sucked in a breath as he looked down at a mirror image of himself, but older somehow, and more weathered and worn. The body was enveloped in black mages robes that looked to be in the Tevinter style. He glanced at Hawke and was surprised to see indescribable sorrow on her face and tears in her eyes before she turned away.

"Burn them all with your strongest fire spell, and it is done," she said quietly. "Your phylactery will lead only to this body. They will think you dead, and pursue you no longer." She walked away slowly, her shoulders slumped with fatigue.

He spent a silent moment examining the face of his doppelganger, then called large fireballs from the sky, draining a large portion of his mana with the single spell.

They were both tired from their exertions, but they hurried on their way, discussing which direction to go, as they were no longer safe in Amaranthine.

"Ella will understand what happened when she hears the gossip after the bodies are discovered, and we can send word when we are safely away." She struggled to lift a large rock and Anders pulled it aside easily. She smiled gratefully, giving way to teasing for the first time in hours.

"What would I do without a nice, strong mage around to look after me?"

He smiled back, acknowledging the compliment. "You won't have to find out the answer to that, dear lady. We're in this together, and I'm not letting you out of my sight anytime soon."

Hawke felt a warm glow spread through her chest at his words as she pulled her pack of stashed belongings out of the shallow hole. She gave him a questioning look.

"Do you want to retrieve your staff before we go?"

He pursed his lips thoughtfully and nodded. "I suppose we better, in case we run into any more big fights."

She nodded and whispered a spell against the side of a tree, then grabbed the strange staff that became visible. It was more than half blade and different than anything he had ever seen. He took it from her hands to examine and she watched him in silence.

"This is a very unusual staff." He glanced at her, but she had on her inscrutable face. He had figured out in the short time he had known her, that meant she was uncomfortable or hiding something. "Where did you get it?"

She shrugged, but didn't avoid his eyes. "From the Qunari. I returned some items they had lost, and they rewarded me with this."

"You did a service for _Qunari_?" He shook his head and handed her the staff. "Why am I not more surprised by that?"

She stowed it across her back, adjusting quickly to the familiar weight. "Shall we go and find yours now? I'll follow you."

Anders took her hand to guide her to where he had hidden the magical item. "Promise not to laugh when you see it, though. Yours is bigger than mine." He pouted out his bottom lip, and she shook her head with a smile.

"It's not the size of the staff that matters, Anders, but what you do with it that counts."

He chuckled. "Well now, if we're talking about my _staff, _and not my staff, I'm not worried about that one at all, now am I, Mari? What say you to my performance, lovely seeress?"

"I'll let you know if I ever experience the reality," she quipped, and he gave her a wounded look.

"_If! _If? Surely you know we are fated to be lovers. I knew it the first time I beheld you, and I can't even see the future. It would not be wise to defy the will of the Maker by resisting."

Hawke snickered, giving him a sidelong glance. "You don't really expect a line like that to work, do you?"

He waggled his eyebrows and smirked. "You might be surprised how many lines work for me."

She let her eyes run over him as they walked; the broad shoulders and muscular arms that even rough workman's clothes couldn't hide. His strong profile and warm amber eyes that could melt her with a look. She sighed appreciatively and smiled.

"No, I don't think I would."

* * *

They retrieved Anders staff, and Hawke even went so far as to creep close enough to the city gates to have a look, but the templars standing about chatting with the city guard had her running back through the brush to rejoin Anders without delay.

She had mulled over where to go, and had decided on Gwaren. It would be a long journey over land, but her family had lived there for a portion of her childhood. She was more comfortable remaining in Ferelden, in a somewhat familiar area. She also recalled the chantry there was quite small and had very few templars. Hopefully, that had not changed. If so, there was always the Brecilian Forest, or the Kocari Wilds if they were really desperate. They would succeed together, provided he continued to trust her.

Anders suggested they might consider Tevinter, but she couldn't shed her disquiet when she remembered all Fenris had told her of the Magisters. She argued for how much easier it would be to blend into their native land, than a foreign place where they neither spoke the language or knew the customs. He conceded the point and offered no further argument. Secretly, he was just pleased they were going together.

They found a likely spot to spend the night, amidst the shelter of several large trees, sharing the only blanket and their body heat between them. He inhaled deeply and wrapped his arms around her, smiling when she made no objection.

"Do you smell that, Mari?"

She sniffed and winced. "Yes, I need a bath. Sorry, Anders."

He pushed his nose into her hair and breathed deeply. "You always smell like lavender to me, but that wasn't what I was talking about. I was talking about the delicious smell of freedom. If whatever spell you did worked, this is my first night of true freedom." He kissed the side of her head happily. "I'll never be able to thank you enough."

She laid her head back against his shoulder, watching the stars winking through the leafy canopy and grey cloud cover.

"I researched the spell carefully. I assure you, it _will_ work. It's just another example of the hypocrisy of the Chantry and their templar puppets- you know to make a phylactery you have to use blood magic, right?"

He sat in grim silence, having come to the same conclusion, long ago. "I have suspected for some time, but it's not something that would have been tolerated if I tried to speak my suspicions aloud. Anymore than my innocent observations that the Chantry intentionally turns templars into lyrium addicts in order to control them." He laughed, but it sounded strained. "I spent two months confined to a room alone, when Knight-Commander Greagoir heard about that little comment."

She turned in his arms to face him, but his twinkling eyes already covered what emotion she had heard in his voice. "Did they punish you the last time you escaped?" she asked, already knowing the answer, but wanting to give him the opportunity to exorcise some of his demons. The twinkle and slight smile faded, and his serious countenance made him look much more like the Anders she used to know.

"Oh, they punished me, all right. The bastards locked me in solitary confinement for a year." His breath hitched in remembered horror, and her brow furrowed in sympathy. She wondered for the thousandth time if it wouldn't have driven her mad.

"How did you stand it? What kept you from losing hope?"

He smiled unexpectedly, and caressed her cheek with gentle fingers. "I'm starting to think it was you. Can you shape-shift into a hawk, by any chance?"

She chuckled and shook her head. "I've never learned to take animal form. Why? Did you have a hawk for a friend?"

He nodded. "I did. I had a single, barred opening to let in fresh air. Soon after my sentence began, the bird landed there, and I started talking to it. He, or she, I don't really know which, came back the next day. I started saving small scraps to feed it, and we were fast friends from then on." His gaze became unfocused with memory. "I swear, there was intelligence and understanding in those gray eyes, even when my rants were half mad."

Hawke considered the possibilities. "It could have been a sympathetic apostate unwilling to leave you all alone…or it could have been a hungry hawk in search of a kind hand to feed it." She shrugged. "Or perhaps it was both."

Anders regarded her with the warm brown gaze that always set her insides to fluttering. "And what of you, Marian Hawke? Do you describe yourself as well?" He brushed her hair back, gently caressing the side of her neck. "Are you only a sympathetic apostate come to offer me the pleasure of your company, or do you hunger for something you can only receive at my hand? Tell me what you would have of me, Mari, and it is done."

Hawke shivered from his words as much as his touch. She wet her lips hesitantly. "I wish no more than you are willing to give, Anders. Never more than that," she whispered.

"And what are you willing to give me in return, my dear Lady Hawke? Is this to be an exchange between equals?" His hand threaded through her hair and he tilted her head to the side, baring her neck to the wandering lips he lowered to her throat as his voice wove a spell over her and stole her mind.

"I give you anything you want of me," she breathed. "Everything."

"I accept," he murmured against her lips, breathing his warm breath against her face and giving her time to stop him, should that be her wish. Brown eyes held blue for a small eternity, and she pressed forward with a sigh of surrender, merging their lips and sharing the air they breathed as they drank greedily from each other.

It was as though she had never lost him. Her grief just a distant nightmare that had no place in her current reality, and she moaned with all the joy and longing of a woman coming home to her beloved.

Anders was amazed as he kissed Marian. It was thrilling and new, yet so familiar, he found himself wondering if this was what it felt like to go beyond infatuation and attraction, and possibly into something deeper. Something he was almost afraid to contemplate.

The taste of her drove him mad with want. He stroked her tongue with his own, wordlessly asking for more of her, and she met him eagerly, kiss for kiss. When she finally pulled back, he stared at her heaving breasts and parted lips, still wet from their passionate embrace.

Unfamiliar emotions made him feel like someone had punched him in the gut, and he struggled to think of something to say. He wondered if he looked as stunned as he felt, reeling from the revelation a mere kiss could bring. Normally he would press for more while he had the advantage of her willingness, but he hesitated. This was not like the casual encounters he was used to, it felt- important.

Marian smiled at him with eyes shining, and lay her head against his chest, saving him from the effort of speaking. She fell asleep in the welcome warmth and comfort of his arms, listening to the steady beat of his heart.

Anders spent a long time in silent contemplation over all the conversations they had had, and the events of the day. Remembering Hawke's fierceness in battle, and how she fought for him, before he finally succumbed to the lure of the fade.

* * *

~o~


	5. Chapter 5

_**Warning: violence and some adult language.**_

**Chapter Five**

* * *

Dawn broke with thick grey clouds overhead, and a heavy mist in the air. It was cold despite the humidity, and Marian stamped her feet in a bid to get warm amidst the gloom.

Anders peered out from under the blanket, watching her antics and shaking his head. "A woman who is so cold should not leave the warm embrace of an obliging man."

She blew against her icy fingers. "There are times a woman must seek out an obliging _bush_, unfortunately."

He pushed a stray lock of hair off his forehead and grinned. "Since you've seen to that pressing matter, why don't you come back here and snuggle up with me? I have a lovely morning gift for you under this blanket."

Marian snorted a laugh and shook her head, walking to her pack to pull out two of the apples she was grateful she had the foresight to pack before they left the city. Food was a problem that would have to be remedied, and she already had plans to pass by and obtain some food at a local farm on their way out of the area.

While it had been a joy to fall asleep with Anders holding her, she had experienced a mild attack of panic when she awoke to his hand caressing her breasts under her clothes and the unmistakable feel of his erection pressing into her from behind.

It turned out she wasn't quite as prepared to give herself to him as she had been under the stars the previous night. If there was one thing she knew about excessive flirts, the thrill of the chase was almost more important to them than the catching.

She needed to discover if that was the case with Anders, and the truth was, she just didn't know him well enough yet to make that determination. She had no desire to become just another notch in his belt. Tossing one of the apples at Anders, she bit into her own and chewed and swallowed before answering.

"You'll have to save your gifts for another time. We need to put as much distance between us and Amaranthine as possible today."

He sat up and polished the apple against his tunic. "One of these days, Marian Hawke, I'm going to teach you to live in the moment more, instead of always being so terribly practical and level-headed."

With his particular choice of words, she suddenly found herself thrust back in memory to Kirkwall, late one night when Anders was working late again, and she had tried to cajole him to come home and spend time with her.

"_Come on, dearest. There's no one else here who needs healing and you can work on your manifesto another night. Please? Can't you live in the moment just this once? I've scarcely seen you for the past two weeks. Haven't you missed me even a little?"_

_She tugged playfully on the black feathers of his coat, pouting her lower lip out and fluttering her eyelids dramatically._

_He glanced back at the stack of messy papers on his desk, an indecisive look on his face before he caught her expression and chuckled in defeat._

"_I see you aren't even going to let me consider saying no, are you? You're right, love. I'm sorry if I've been neglecting you of late, but there's just so much to do." He ran a thumb down the side of her face, his expression musing, with just a hint of mischief sparkling in his brown eyes. "I seem to recall I used to be quite good at living in the moment, if I still remember how…"_

What had followed was some of the most breathtaking sex they had ever shared, right on top of his desk and important papers. Justice had been disgruntled that many of them had to be rewritten, but it was one of her more treasured memories.

"Hello? Where have you gone again?" Anders snapped his fingers right in front of her, a frown of concern on his face.

Her eyes flew to his and she drew a deep breath, letting go of the memory with some difficulty. "I'm sorry, did you say something? I'm afraid I was just a bit distracted for a moment."

"Hmm," he said musingly, crossing his arms. "I noticed, and it seems to be something you do habitually. Ever think about having a healer give you a thorough examination?"

Her brows drew together in confusion. "You think mental abstraction is something you can cure?"

"No," he said with a smirk, "but I would still enjoy examining you…_thoroughly_."

She rolled her eyes and smiled, turning away from him to finish her apple and gather their things to continue on.

* * *

~o~

Anders and Marian crouched at the edge of the woods, the noon sun having burned away the cool morning mist and warmed the day to an uncomfortably sticky heat. They were spying out a farm and trying to decide if it was safe to go ask if they could buy some food, or if it would be wiser to wait until after dark and steal some. Each option carried risks.

A young, red-haired, heavily freckled woman walked out of one of the smaller cottages on the holding and went to the well to draw water. Anders grinned as though he had just been given a gift, bumped Marian's arm and leaned close to whisper in her ear.

"I think that's a sign for me to do what I do best. Watch and learn, my lovely."

He stood quickly and swaggered his way across the sun-scorched front lawn and quickly struck up a conversation with the country lass, and had her blushing, laughing and gazing at him starry-eyed within five minutes.

Marian clucked her tongue in annoyance while she continued to observe Anders, more than a little dismayed that she had never realized just what a user Anders had been before she met him. She would never have guessed the serious, single-minded mage she had fallen in love with had anything in common with the unapologetic libertine before her.

She leaned back against the trunk of a tree, closed her eyes and tried to squelch the small pang of disappointment and loss that always seemed determined to ambush her unexpectedly.

She needed to stop looking at this Anders and judging him according to her previous experiences with someone who no longer existed. He wasn't really doing anything wrong, was he? Nothing she hadn't done herself when the occasion called for a particular type of charm or persuasion. He was only trying to be helpful. Wasn't he? Of course he was, and he deserved the benefit of the doubt.

Turning back to check his progress, Marian felt her blood run cold at what she saw coming down the distant hill at the far edge of the farm. How very like her luck, she thought ruefully. A familiar mantle of calm settled over her as she quickly snatched their staves and broke into a light run, heading for Anders.

The girl saw her approaching first and Anders turned in confusion just in time to catch the staff she pitched at him.

Marian grabbed the girl by one arm and spoke firmly and clearly. "There are darkspawn just beyond the rise, they will be here in minutes. Is there anyone else close by that you need to warn? If so, do it quickly. I will try to give you enough time to get away."

When the girl stood there dumbfounded, staring at her with wide eyes, Marian gave her a shove and yelled, "Run, damn you!"

She flicked her eyes toward Anders and jerked her chin toward the west where the foul stench of taint was carried to them on the warm breeze. Striding forward to meet the threat with determination, she wondered how long she could stall the 'spawn in order to allow the farm folk to get clear.

"I certainly hope you have your most powerful spells in readiness, Anders. It looked like a good sized group, and they have an ogre with them, Maker only knows what else."

He frowned as he shortened his longer stride to match hers, coming around the side of the barn so they could see the enemy clearly now. "What are they still doing above ground? I thought with the Archdemon slain, any surviving darkspawn go back down to the deep roads again."

Planting her feet firmly in the dust of the lane leading to the farm, she shook her head, wracking her memories for what she could remember hearing mentioned about the Architect and broodmothers from Anders and Nathaniel Howe, but they never gave any details about the conflict, so she was still pretty much in the dark.

"I don't know why they're here. I suggest we concentrate on survival now and worry about other things when we are out of danger."

Anders cast a glyph on the ground around them and nodded. "Good plan," he muttered, and got down to the business of focusing on fighting.

They were able to catch the first wave of genlocks while they were still at a distance, using a combination of fire and lightning spells between them, and Anders continued to cast haste on them both to enable them to be that much quicker than the wretched filth that came closer by the second.

The ogre pounded its' chest and roared a challenge and Hawke froze him in place with an ice spell. When beginning her next casting she was hit by a wave of dark magic that made her want to vomit.

"Anders," she gasped, leaning over and fighting back bile, "I think there's an Emissary nearby, if you see him, concentrate your spells on him." She raised the bladed end of her staff in time to block the downswing of one of the genlocks who had made it through their line of spells and glyphs.

Grunting, Anders rammed his staff into the unprotected throat of a hurlock, then knocked it against the side of the thing's head, dropping it in a heap at his feet. "I'll add it to my list of things to do," he quipped.

With a blast of telekinetic force, he sent spawn flying away from the two of them, and they both ran closer to the farm to allow more space for their spells to whittle down the numbers of the enemy before they reached them.

"Oh, shit, shit, shit," Marian moaned in a worried litany when the ogre picked up an enormous boulder and hurled it at them. She pushed Anders off to the side and dodged to the opposite side of the path to allow the boulder to roll harmlessly between them.

Jumping to her feet, she snarled and ran forward two paces until she had the giant's full attention. Pulling the small dagger from her belt, she pushed up her sleeve and glared. "Alright, you ugly _fuck_, you want to fight? Let's see how you like this!"

Slitting quick cuts across both of her forearms, she raised them over her head and chanted loudly. She balled one hand into a fist, and then the other, enormous fiery claws appearing and digging into the meaty shoulders of the ogre, stopping it mid-stride.

Gritting her teeth, she crossed both arms at the wrists, then wrenched them apart with a yell, the ogre ripped in twain by the demonic claws, blood and viscera painting a grotesque spray across the ground.

Staggering with fatigue, a low whistle sounded near her ear and she spun in surprise to see a Hurlock felled with an arrow protruding from the chest. Men and a dwarf came over the rise, cutting a path through the darkspawn from the other side, and trapping them between themselves and the two mages.

Anders rejuvenation spell washed over her and she closed her eyes for half a second to refocus, then chanted a lightning spell, watching in satisfaction as it jumped from spawn to spawn, felling a line of six.

Smirking, she glanced at Anders and caught her breath at the blue-white whirl of power that enveloped him as he slammed his staff into the ground, feeling the familiar jolt of arousal and attraction she always experienced when she saw him casting.

The wind was knocked from her and she found herself looking up at the blue sky, a heavy weight across her chest. A red-headed dwarf peered down at her with a leering laugh.

"You got to keep your eyes open, little magey."

Then he and his enormous axe spun out of her sight again, leaving her to struggle out from under the genlock whose blood was soaking her clothes and beginning to burn her bare skin.

Anders pulled her up and steadied her, and she laughed weakly in relief when she saw there were no more darkspawn standing, but just the unknown fighters who had likely saved their lives. She saw the familiar face of the archer come into view and cursed quietly under her breath. Anders, who had been grinning in relief, raised an enquiring brow at her suddenly ashen face.

"I think they're Grey Wardens. Hopefully, they won't give us any trouble and we can be on our way soon." She picked at her bloody clothing distastefully. "I think I will be forced to wear my only other set of clothes though. These will have to be burned."

He pretended to look upset and gestured to his own clothing spattered with blood. "Such a shame, but I think I will be forced to do the same to these clothes you gave me. It's just as well I saved my other robes and carried them with me…just in case."

Marian smiled and shook her head, walking over to the side of the farm where the well stood. It was only after she had poured the fourth bucket of water over herself that her skin stopped burning from the tainted blood. She drew a final bucket and poured it over her face and hair, dropping the bucket to wipe the wetness from her face.

She opened her eyes to see two dark-haired men regarding her from across the lawn as they conversed quietly together. She knew Nathaniel Howe's face well but pretended not to, while the other man was a stranger. Narrowing her eyes, she wrung out her hair and waited for them to speak first. The unknown man stepped forward.

"You have our thanks, good lady, for your assistance in fighting these darkspawn. The Grey Wardens in Ferelden are few in number, and we have been hard-pressed to meet the many threats surrounding us at present." He ran a hand through his closely-cropped hair then crossed his arms, his green eyes thoughtful.

"I was equally thankful for your help, ser. Truthfully, I do not know how much longer Anders and I would have been able to keep going, so your arrival was very timely." She looked down and squeezed some of the water from her garment, bemused to realize her nipples were fully visible through the drenched cloth. Annoyed, she crossed her arms.

Anders walked up and put a hand to the back of her neck underneath her wet hair, massaging the tense muscles gently. "I must admit I have never been quite so happy to see you, Daylen, as I was just now."

Daylen gave a sharp laugh and walked forward to clap Anders on the shoulder. "It's been a while, Anders. I assume this is your latest jaunt," he flicked his eyes toward Marian and smirked, "and it seems you managed to talk another mage into escaping with you this time, although I don't recognize her from the Circle."

Anders turned to Marian. "Marian Hawke meet Daylen Amell, savior and Hero of Ferelden. You mentioned he was your cousin too, didn't you?"

She looked at Daylen in surprise. She had always wondered what her Ferelden kin looked like. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Daylen, I've heard of your family from my mother, she was a Kirkwall Amell."

Daylen scrutinized her, a teasing smile on his lips. "Cousins, are we? Would that be the kissing or non-kissing kind? I'm certainly open to the former."

Marian laughed when Anders put his arm around her shoulders possessively and pulled her against him. "Keep your distance, Warden, I saw her first, and you wouldn't know her since she wasn't part of the Ferelden Circle either. She was raised as an apostate."

Daylen's eyes flicked past her shoulder and his gaze hardened and his posture grew more tense before he looked between the two mages before him. Drawing a breath, he put a hand on Anders' shoulder and another on Marian's.

"I am formally conscripting the two of you into the Grey Wardens as of right now," he said in a low and serious voice. "You may thank me or damn me later, as you prefer."

Marian looked at Anders in shock and sputtered indignantly at the Warden. "You can't do that! We have no wish to join your Order, just let us be on our way and we'll…"

"Deal with them?" Daylen asked quietly, pointing discreetly behind them.

Turning, Marian felt her stomach sink to her toes at the sight of the large group of Templars following the family who had fled the farm earlier.

"Well, isn't that bloody great," Anders said in a defeated voice. "I think I'd rather kiss a darkspawn."

Marian silently agreed with him.

* * *

_**A/N: That's as much as I can post on this story until I manage to get the rest of chapter 6 finished. Thanks for reading, and if you have any thoughts you want to share, please feel free to leave a review. :)**_

_**~o~**_


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